


Your Presence Here

by MetaThePanda



Series: Your Presence Here [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Apple of Eden, M/M, Minor Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Maria Thorpe, Minor Original Character(s), Non-consensual sedation, Snarky Malik Al-Sayf, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21529693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetaThePanda/pseuds/MetaThePanda
Summary: Leonardo had not expected the mysterious Piece of Eden to transport him to a far-away land in a far-away time. Malik had not expected a mysterious stranger to appear in the middle of Masyaf. They both had not expected love to blossom.
Relationships: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Maria Thorpe, Malik Al-Sayf/Leonardo da Vinci
Series: Your Presence Here [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077134
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bix/gifts).



“Fascinating… absolutely fascinating…”

Leonardo crouched before what he truly considered to be a marvel. The golden orb before him was a small thing, no larger than a citron. Yet this small object had been the cause of so much bloodshed in the previous decade, and he suspected much longer than that. And this metal sphere had Leonardo’s mind reeling with questions that did not cease growing in number with each passing moment in its presence.

“What is it, Leonardo? What does it do?” Ezio Auditore asked eagerly, likely expecting a simple answer. But there was no simple answer, though Leonardo wished he could provide such wisdom, as he had many times in the past. The Codex of Altaïr had been a much easier matter than this - it was basic addition to this object’s trigonometric derivation.

But even a complex calculation as that would have been solvable with enough time. This mystified him completely. Perhaps it was an ancient science that Leonardo had yet to study, and that made it all the more captivating.

“I could no more explain this than explain to you why the Earth goes around the sun!”

Ezio’s uncle Mario finally spoke up, interjecting with a scoff. “You mean the sun around the Earth?”

Leonardo might have laughed, or intently explained his theories of the arrangement of the universe, had he not been presented with such a remarkable puzzle. His mind raced with theories and solutions, all of which were proving inadequate to explain this simple orb. “It’s fabricated with materials that shouldn’t exist…” he answered, watching as his fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the orb and made it faintly glow, “And yet… this is clearly a very ancient artifact.” It was all he could offer Ezio for now.

“The Codex refers to it as ‘A Piece of Eden’.” Mario offered, his gaze quickly shifting from Leonardo to the silent Machiavelli, and finally to his nephew.

Ezio frowned in response, golden eyes narrowing as his thoughts churned. “The Spaniard… He called it ‘The Apple’.”

“Like Eve’s Apple? Of forbidden knowledge?” Leonardo stood then, his awe-filled stare soon changing to nervous glances. Of course he had known of the mention of this in Altaïr’s famous Codex, as he had been the one to translate it. But never before had it seemed so real, removed as it was by sketches on paper and writings of old. He backed away from the artifact, wariness taking hold of him as he glanced at the very thing that had tempted man from Paradise. “Are you then suggesting that this thing…”

Leonardo’s hesitance only seemed to increase his dearest friend Ezio’s curiosity, who took a step toward the golden Apple. As he drew closer, its light shone more brilliantly, and wisps of golden clouds began to orbit around it. Leonardo noted even the courageous Ezio seemed taken aback by this reaction, hand left to hover over the artifact while his three companions watched breathlessly.

Ezio made contact with the Apple, and everything suddenly changed. Figures of light swarmed around the four, rays shooting off from the sphere and forming incomprehensible patterns and equations. As Leonardo shielded his eyes from the sudden bursts of blinding light, he saw poor Niccolò and Mario fall to their knees, holding their heads in anguish. The pressure he felt on his skull was not as debilitating, though he felt his legs nearly give way.

Soon Leonardo began to take notice of the figures swirling around him, and the sluggishness of his body was easily surpassed by his own curiosity. He counted dozens of curious hieroglyphs, each one more fascinating than the last. One was a magnificent tree, sprawling and verdant, with the symbol for the Apple hidden within its trunk. Another was not unlike his flying machine, and another appeared to be a carriage with a small cannon mounted upon it. His eyes raced to capture every image he could in detail, searing them all into his mind. There was a tower made of metal stretching toward the heavens, and a helical structure that was made of two curves, and sometimes three. Complex geometric formulae, architectural wonders modelled in three dimensions, and immense charts of the stars all swirled around them - it was all so alien, but all so wondrous!

It had taken only seconds to display such wonders. Perhaps out of fear for what he had unleashed, or out of concern for his uncle and friends, Ezio reached once more for the Apple to put an end to its maddening display. It was only as palm connected with the artifact that Leonardo glimpsed the pair of eyes staring back at him.

The artist suddenly lost his footing as the world seemed to evaporate around him, and he felt the familiar but unsettling sensation of his stomach sinking just before he began to plummet. Gold light faded quickly to blackness as he tumbled, the visions of his friends vanishing just as quickly as the ground. “Ezio!” He called in a panic, though his voice did not seem to carry very far past his lips. There was no feeling of wind rushing across his face or body, only the feeling of disorientation as he plunged downward.

But then, he saw a pinprick of light. It was a warm, golden light, much like the Apple’s, but much brighter. It approached rapidly, and nearly blinded Leonardo with its sudden brilliance. He squinted his eyes against it as prominent detail began to form. It was a tiled starburst surrounded by a wooden ring. There was a thin layer of sand, warm and pale, strewn over its surface, that reflected the light of a noonday sun. He could feel himself slowing as it came more into view, but that was not enough to keep him from tensing his body to prepare for impact.

Leonardo toppled into the starburst as if swiftly pushed, but the blow still stung when he landed. At the very least, he was sure his right side would soon sport a constellation of mottled purple bruises. It was a small blessing he had not landed on his left! Leonardo curled in on himself out of instinct, and the only thing that came from his lips besides sharp breaths were small, labored groans.

The cool edge of a saber soon rested against his neck. He heard distant shouting, but he could not recognize the language at first, his focus still scattered by the pain radiating along his right side. “ _La tataharak_ ,” came a gruff voice from above him, and his mind struggled to translate it. Aramaic? No, Arabic, clearly some dialect of Arabic - and it was clearly an admonition of some sort, so he concluded that it was best to remain perfectly still. He remained prone, with his head resting against the warm tile, and kept his breaths as slow as possible and shut his eyes tight, praying to whatever being would listen that he would not soon lose his head.

Soon there came a crowd of others, all murmuring in unfamiliar tongues. Their hushed tones made it hard to understand, though Leonardo occasionally caught a phrase of ancient Greek or Hebrew. None of them were particularly generous - “foreigner” and “intruder”, mostly - but others he heard were much more concerning. Some suggested he might be a captured crusader, while other voices insisted that he was a spy who had been discovered by the guards. And one voice joked that he should be made an example for those who dared intrude on the inner sanctum’s grounds.

Leonardo’s unsteady breath caught in his throat. Surely he could convince these strangers that he meant no harm and was brought here against his will. He forced himself to open his eyes and fearfully glance up at the man who held him at swordpoint. The guard glared down at Leonardo from above, fists clenched tight as he kept the sharp edge of his blade steady against Leonardo’s neck. The missing ring finger on his left hand only added to the man’s intimidating presence.

Suddenly, everything clicked for Leonardo. These men were in the Brotherhood of Assassins, and this place surely had to be one of their many fortresses across the known world. No Assassin he knew still removed their left ring finger, but these men did. He had not been called a crusader because of the Portuguese Crusade from a decade past, nor the Crusade of Varna nearly five decades past; he was called a crusader because he had somehow found his way to the time of the Crusades. It was the only logical explanation Leonardo could intuit, though it seemed nearly impossible. But he had just seen the impossible in his little workshop in Venice. The artist’s fears quickly faded as he realized the way to save himself from this Assassin’s deadly blade.

“ _Nihil verum est, omnia licent!_ ” Leonardo projected to the gathered crowd in fluent Latin, his gaze not once leaving his guard’s face. 

The crowd quickly fell into stunned silence at his words, and even his captor seemed to withdraw his blade a few inches from Leonardo’s neck. Several rapid words were exchanged in Arabic between his guard and another Assassin, who quickly leapt into the wooden ring to help haul Leonardo to his feet. After a few more quick mutterings between the two, he was taken out of the ring, the crowd rapidly parting with a few gruff commands and a well-timed wave of the saber.

Leonardo quickly felt the pounding of his heart in his chest as he was marched up the ramp toward the fortress, his renewed zest for life after escaping a beheading turning quickly into panicked dread at the unknown fate awaiting him at the top. “Where are you taking me?” He stammered in Latin, nervously looking at the younger of the two guards for an answer.

“To speak to the Dai,” the elder one growled, sharply nudging Leonardo forward to hasten their steps. “He will know how to deal with you.”

The younger guard seemed more sympathetic to Leonardo’s plight, for he quietly added, “No harm should come to you, unless your intentions belie our tenets.” He quickly fell silent when the elder guard scowled in disapproval, prompting Leonardo to also keep quiet as the trio reached the castle walls.

The inside of the fortress was astoundingly beautiful, though Leonardo was given no chance to examine it further than cursory glances. Men in all white studied a vast library which spanned floor to ceiling, separated only by a grand staircase which split in both directions around the room to a large mezzanine to the south. The guards hurried him up the stairs and toward the mezzanine, shoving past confused and curious scholars who seemed to regard Leonardo as a genuine oddity.

Their march was finally halted in front of a heavy wooden desk, and a seated man who looked far too young for the respect he commanded. He was dressed in the white robes of the Assassins, but over it he wore a black kaftan. His left arm had been taken from him at the elbow, but it slowed him down very little; in fact it appeared to be only a trivial detail to him that it was missing at all. He had been carefully measuring distances on a map when the elder guard cleared his throat to signal their presence. The man’s drafting compass froze mid-measurement, irritation clear in the furrow of his brow. “ _Ma al’amr?_ ” the Dai questioned plainly, his dark eyes flicking upwards to stare at Leonardo’s two guards.

Arabic was spoken in such rapid succession that Leonardo could not keep up with the conversation. He suspected that was their intention, in the end. But he was able to garner a few key words and phrases throughout their speech - the man at the desk asked for confiscated weapons, and the older guard replied simply that there were none. There was also a mention of the Mentor, and the younger answered in the negative. But the rest of it was moving too quickly, and Leonardo instead tried to commit the sounds to memory so that it might be possible to translate it later. That did not help him now, however, and that point was made disconcertingly clear when the man stood from his desk and closed the distance between them. A chill went down Leonardo’s spine at the man’s glare, and when the other slowly paced around him to get a better idea of him, he swore he felt the harsh scrutiny upon him like a beam of light upon his flesh. Leonardo kept his eyes forward and his mouth (wisely) shut.

After a few moments of silence and contemplation, the man waved his hand dismissively and quickly muttered something Leonardo could not understand. Immediately, the younger of the two guards grasped Leonardo’s arms and held them behind his back. Before he could protest, the man in black proclaimed in fluent Latin, “Do not resist. It will only lead to more pain and suffering for you.”

“Please,” Leonardo began to beg, but the Dai coldly turned away from him and returned to his map work. There was a small prickle of pain on Leonardo’s right shoulder, and when he turned his head, he spotted a small curved knife that gleamed with a mysterious substance. His vision began to grow fuzzy almost immediately, and before he could slur out another plea, Leonardo fell into complete blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I intend to use phrases in other languages only when appropriate, such as for dramatic effect. I am by no means a language expert, though I try to corroborate with multiple sources such as online dictionaries and grammar notes. If I have written a phrase wrong in a language you understand, please feel free to message me and I will do my best to correct it.
> 
>  _La tataharak_ \- Arabic, transliterated. “Don’t move.”
> 
>  _Nihil verum est, omnia licent_ \- (corrected) Latin. The Asssassin’s Creed, “Nothing is true, everything (is) permitted.”
> 
>  _Ma al’amr?_ \- Arabic, transliterated. “What is it/What’s the matter?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik confronts their mysterious guest, who seems only happy to cooperate. Leonardo is too intelligent for his own good. Altaïr becomes involved.

Leonardo awoke to the sound of a lock clicking behind him.

He would have bolted upright, had he the strength. But his limbs did not want to cooperate as quickly as Leonardo would have liked. He suspected that had to do with the sedative the Assassins had introduced into his blood. He sat up slowly and rested his back against a cool rock wall for support; if he could not control his body as instantly as usual, he would instead provide himself with a mechanical advantage. This leverage, at the very least, gave him a view of his surroundings once he had the ability to focus his vision, fighting his way through the groggy blur of the poison's traces still left in his body.

The room he was in was small, no greater than ten Tuscan _palmi_ in length and width. Leonardo estimated it was actually closer to nine and a half _palmi_ , but he quickly dismissed his guess as unimportant for his current dilemma. No, his analytical mind had to focus on more important things to get out of this situation alive. He continued to survey his surroundings, only using his eyes and not moving his head to prevent another dizzy spell. This room had only one door made of some hard, light-colored wood - perhaps pine or cedar, though Leonardo wasn't able to approach the door in his current state to determine its origin for sure. Either way, it was completely solid and sturdy, unable to be knocked down or broken without some sort of weapon. The only thing besides himself in this chamber was a rudimentary bed made from a meager pile of hay with a blanket draped over it. The light came from one window facing the hallway inside the castle, in front of which a torch burned well out of arm's reach. But why? Why not use the natural light of the outdoors?

A shudder ran down Leonardo's body as he suddenly realized why such a room would exist in an Assassin fortress. This was clearly intended to be a temporary holding cell, for observation and nothing more. Assassins never held their prisoners for long.

With no obvious escape, and nowhere to hide, Leonardo instead focused on working the sedative out of his system. His extremities were lagging several seconds behind when his brain ordered them to move, so little progress could be made at first. He started simply by pressing his thumbs to each of his fingertips in turn, repeating the sequence until he did not sense any noticeable difference between his thoughts and his movements. His crude timekeeping efforts led him to believe that returning life to his fingers took only five minutes. However, Leonardo would not lure himself into thinking it would take so little time to return the strength to his arms or legs, or even his neck. No, those would take much longer to return to normal function, but he had nothing else to do while he waited.

It was after a half-hour or so, by Leonardo's guess, that he heard a voice in the hall. It was the same Dai from before, only this time he spoke in medieval Greek. The guard at his door must have been a Grecian, Leonardo thought, thanking the stars that some advantage had finally been provided to him. He listened carefully as he continued his exercises, working now to lightly clench his hands into fists over and over again.

"Has he awoken?" The Dai asked, his voice calmly neutral.

"Ah, yes, I believe so - though he has not moved since he propped himself against the wall an hour past. Are you to question him, Dai?" This guard sounded even younger than the man who had been kind to him before. Sixteen, seventeen perhaps, but certainly not a child anymore.

There was a long moment of silence as the Dai slipped into view in front of the small window, his deep brown eyes carefully surveying their captive. Leonardo managed to release his hands from fists, resting them against the stone floor to hide his progress… at least he hoped so. The Dai didn't seem to notice, because he disappeared from his spot at the window.

"Not yet. See to it that he is given some bread and water, and that he is speaking. I will begin questioning him myself, once he is able."

Yet another shiver ran down Leonardo's spine at those words. He had to regain control of his body quickly, then, or else he would be completely helpless to the Dai's ruthlessness he had shown thus far.

The Dai's footsteps began to echo through the hall as he left, but he was stalled by the young guard outside. "Dai… this still makes no sense to me. How can a man just appear out of thin air, in the middle of our training grounds?"

"I do not know, novice, but I intend to find out." The Dai's words were stoic, but did not hold as much rigidness as Leonardo had experienced. "I will discover his tricks and reveal them for the falsities they are."

The echoing footsteps returned, disappearing around a corner and fading into nothingness. The young man at the door suddenly swung it wide open and strode to Leonardo's side, crouching down beside him. Leonardo could see him clearly now; he was a sweet-faced youth with dark eyes and brown hair curled tight to his head, and he wore the grayed hood of a novitiate Assassin over his white robes. "Can you move?" He asked in passable Latin, studying Leonardo as carefully as the Dai had before.

Leonardo did not speak, but instead slowly raised his head to meet the youth's gaze, shaking his head with slow and uneven motions. He had hoped to gain better control by now, but it had been for naught. The young man considered him a moment, then left the room, returning minutes later with a small portion of flatbread and a cup of water. "This should restore your strength," the novice noted as he drew the cup of water to Leonardo's lips.

The maestro dutifully drank, a relieved sigh leaving his lips once he was finished. "Thank you," he murmured in reply, his limbs already feeling a little restored. He said nothing more as the youth slowly fed him his bread. Once the food had settled in his stomach, he felt his arms in particular grow stronger, though his legs still felt useless.

"What are you called?" He finally asked the youth after a few minutes of obedient eating. The youth seemed taken aback by the question, and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "I'm… Leonardo," the maestro interjected, his words still a bit labored. It was a desperate gambit, but providing his name might mean a chance at kinship, if nothing else.

The youth gauged his response carefully, clearly torn between protocol and Leonardo's friendly gesture. "… they call me Ari," he finally answered, moving to rise from the floor. "You understand that fraternizing with prisoners is forbidden?" Ari questioned almost nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest while considering the helpless man before him.

Leonardo nodded, his control returning slowly to him. He thankfully discovered his arms were able to support his weight long enough to shift positions. Leonardo chose to kneel, the floor on either side of him a convenient resting place for his arms while they recovered from his efforts. "Does this mean I am a prisoner? I mean no harm to the Assassins," he implored, his teeth gritting as pain and sensation began to return.

"But that does not mean you intend to aid us, either," Ari interjected. "You are to remain here until Dai Malik deems you are not a threat to Masyaf."

The young Assassin's words stirred memories in Leonardo's mind, of coded messages scrawled on hundreds-year-old paper. " _Dio mio_ , of course!" His blue eyes widened in recognition, and he reached for his things. "Why didn't I think of it sooner? My pencils, I need to-"

"Don't." Ari warned, placing his hand on the hilt of his blade to stop Leonardo if necessary. But Leonardo did not acknowledge Ari's threat, instead removing his beloved journal from his satchel and opening it up to a fresh page. "Did you hear me, old man? I said stop."

"Hush now, Ari, I must focus!" Leonardo shushed him, much to Ari's surprise and consternation. "If I just remember the cyphers that were used, I would be able to recreate… yes, I'm sure I…"

Ari tried to speak again, but another soft hush from Leonardo made his retort die in his throat. Without saying another word, the youth stormed into the hallway and locked the door behind him.

Leonardo did not let the claustrophobic nature of his surroundings get to him… or perhaps, he was too distracted by his new discovery to pay it much mind. Though these were not ideal working conditions, Leonardo had just enough light to see and a flat enough surface upon which to scrawl his notes. Drawing his visual memory of each codex page into his mind, he began hurriedly writing and scrawling. The various illustrations within the Codex were easily recreated, for such a skilled hand as his. The written notes were a bit more cumbersome, having to translate his mental picture between several languages and encryption methods to his notes.

Finally, once he had finished his reproduction, he was able to read through his work, scouring the pages for half-remembered excerpts that were the key to understanding his current circumstances. The thirteenth and fourteenth pages, in particular, gave Leonardo the proper context.

_… I have also worked with Malik to describe new methods of assassination…_

_… watching as we do from the spires of Masyaf…_

He slowed his quill, then, staring down at the two pages side by side. He knew these things: he had been tossed halfway across the world by the Piece of Eden, and he had also been transported into the past, sometime during the Crusades. The man he had met was called Malik, and that same name had not been used once, but twice within the Codex. And finally, Ari had mentioned the fortress of Masyaf by name. As absurd as his conclusion was, it was the only one left after countless tries at other, more rational answers.

The Apple had sent him not just to the time of the Crusades, but to the time of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. But why? For what purpose? And how was such a thing possible?

It was then that his musings were interrupted by the door to his temporary cell swinging open, and the Dai from earlier stepping into view. Before Leonardo could say a word, the man held up his only hand in protest.

"I will not have you ordering my silence as you did Aristides. He may wither at your shushing, but I am no novice. You will speak only when spoken to. Understood?" The Dai spoke curtly in Latin, brow furrowed in no small amount of annoyance. Leonardo's questions died quickly on his lips, and he meekly nodded in response. "Then tell me why, instead of contemplating your fate or praying to your God, you have been writing in that ledger of yours for the past _four hours_."

Leonardo gave a start, taken aback by the news. "Has it really been that long? I, well, it is hard to measure time in a windowless-"

"Answer the question."

The maestro shrank at the Assassin's cold remark, his gaze instinctively falling to his hands, which were fiddling with his pencil out of nervous habit. "I apologize, Dai Malik, I… tend to lose track of time when I am focused on a project."

The man scoffed, his steps making no noise as he strode forward. "So you do know who I am. Aristides read your actions correctly. However, I do not know you, nor any man named Leonardo. So what else do you know of us, outsider?"

Leonardo considered his reply for a moment, before hesitantly glancing up at the imposing figure. "I know that your current Mentor is Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, and that the previous Mentor was slain by his hand. I have heard the Creed and its three tenets. I understand you have been working with Altaïr to improve the efficacy of your assassination techniques, and the practices within the Order, though I understand more in theory than in practical use. And I know that you have been testing my knowledge, my abilities, even my actions since I was placed in this cell."

Malik's head cocked to the side, his cold demeanor breaking for just a moment to reveal a hint of curiosity. "Explain."

"Well, several of your actions have been contradictory. You spoke to… Aristides, did you say?… Ari, earlier, in what I assume is his native language of Greek. But you knew from our first meeting that I spoke very little Arabic fluently, and so if it was discretion you were after, you could have simply spoken Arabic and I would have been none the wiser."

The Dai raised an eyebrow in response, resting his hand on his hip. "Perhaps I did not know you spoke it."

"But you must have, surely, if you can converse with me in such fluent Latin. Perhaps you were trying to break my spirit? Or was it instead simply to see if I would respond? Furthermore, you left me alone with an initiate, which was an odd move on its own, but now I believe was an attempt to provoke an escape attempt on my part. But I admit I do not know why you endangered Ari just to see if I was dangerous…"

"Ari was never in any danger," Malik retorted in cool tones, his scowl swiftly returned.

"… ah, so you were watching this whole time, then? That makes more sense. So you let me continue with my note taking, in the hopes that my writing might reveal something to you!" Leonardo beamed at his revelation, but quickly withdrew his excitement at a withering glance from the Dai. "Right. Anyway. The thing that finally gave you away is this: you made your footfalls heavier when I could overhear you, but just now you approached me as quietly as you would your targets."

Malik studied Leonardo for a long while, who began to grow uncomfortable under his scrutiny. But then the silence was broken with a soft shuffle of cloth as Malik crouched in front of him. "It seems Aristides was not the only observant one. You must know what is to happen next," Malik countered, his arm extending toward Leonardo's notebook. Leonardo's hands faltered at first, but soon settled the worn leather cover of the journal into Malik's open palm.

The Dai stood and began to pace as he read, casually at first, but then his stance shifted, his expression darkening as he moved to the second page, then the third. Soon he was quickly thumbing through the pages, eyes quickly scanning each line and each drawing. By the time Malik had flipped through two dozen pages or so, his face was unreadable - though the tone in his voice was not. " _Ma hy alla'nat?_ " He muttered in bewilderment, with no small portion of horror. It quickly turned to fury as Malik whirled upon Leonardo, growling a harsh "Stay there" before rushing out the door. Ari barely had time to close it behind him. Leonardo couldn't speak or even move; he simply shrunk into the wall again out of panic.

It was likely only a few minutes at best, but Leonardo waited for what seemed like hours. He had not been afraid before, though he certainly was now. The ire in Malik's voice stuck with him in a way the Florentine guards' sneers hadn't, but he had the same visceral reaction to it - utter cowardice.

The door's hinges moved again and Leonardo jumped like a frightened animal. This time, however, Malik's demeanor did not scare him, for he had resumed his role as the hardened, indifferent arbiter.

He motioned for Leonardo to stand, and Leonardo obeyed, though his legs still shook a little from the remnants of the sedative. "Consider yourself quite lucky," Malik announced, sarcasm practically dripping off his every word. "Altaïr wishes to speak with you in person. Come with me." The Dai turned around on his heels, glancing over his shoulder only once to confirm that Leonardo was right behind him before walking away.

And so Leonardo followed, wondering just how he might explain himself to the goddamned legendary Master Assassin Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: _Palmi_ \- Italian unit of measurement used before the adoption of the metric system by the Italian Kingdom. Each region of the Italian States typically had their own lengths for the same unit of measurement; Tuscany was particularly weird in that Florence had its own set of measurements that were completely different from the measurements everywhere else in Tuscany. Leonardo is referencing the Tuscan palmo because it is what he grew up with, being from the hamlet of Vinci. A Tuscan palmo was equivalent to about 11.5 inches, or about 29.2 centimeters. He is estimating the room to be 8.6 feet by 8.6 feet, or 2.6 meters by 2.6 meters.
> 
>  _Dio mio_ \- Italian. "My God", a common exclamation.
> 
>  _Ma hy alla'nat?_ \- Arabic, transliterated. "What the hell?" is the best translation, but it literally means something like "What in the damnation?/What in God's curse?"


End file.
